


wise men never try

by sketchy_and_unformed



Category: Naruto
Genre: Asuma-centric, Big Dick Yamato, Drinking, Hook-Up, M/M, Porn with Feelings, almost a character study, bottom asuma, but I can't in good conscience call this a porn without plot, it is still very very smutty tho make no mistake, size queen asuma, sort of but not really, this actually has way more feels than I intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 03:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchy_and_unformed/pseuds/sketchy_and_unformed
Summary: Yamato took a fraction too long to open his eyes after the kiss, releasing a shaky little breath."Ah. That one wasn't to shut me up, was it?"Asuma shook his head, pulling the captain to his feet and encouraging him to sit in his lap, which he did with a slightly dazed expression as if he couldn't quite believe that all of this was really happening."That one was just ‘cause I wanted to,” Asuma said.
Relationships: Sarutobi Asuma/Yamato | Tenzou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18





	wise men never try

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [mytsukkishine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytsukkishine/pseuds/mytsukkishine). This fic happened because of her wonderful fic, [so stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29241360) <3
> 
> Thank you to [HeyItsWrenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyItsWrenn/pseuds/HeyItsWrenn) for the beta read.
> 
> I had a lot of fun getting into Asuma's head and I hope the characterisation feels believable for both of them. This was supposed to be a just-for-fun smutty oneshot but it stole my heart (and my sanity) big time. Cheers to rarepairs :)
> 
> And if you haven't seen the [Drunk Yamato omake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPs3gLB7CeA), go watch it _immediately_ XD

"...because it's not like he _knows_ how difficult it is to use wood release, is it? I mean, how _could_ he know? It uses a lot of chakra, you know. A _lot._ But does senpai care? Nooooo, of course he doesn't!"

Asuma tried to tune the rambling out, the same way he'd been doing for the last ninety minutes. He nursed his beer and his regrets over inviting Yamato for a drink. He’d had no idea the man was such a lightweight or that his only topic of conversation would be Kakashi.

Beside him at the bar, Yamato's expression softened into something pathetically fond.

"It was a very good idea, though. The training, I mean. Senpai always has the best ideas. Did I tell you about the mission we did—"

"In the Land of Tea, yeah, yeah," Asuma said. He'd heard about it twice already. Apparently Yamato no longer had the wherewithal to care that everything related to ANBU missions was supposed to be _confidential_.

Yamato blinked at him, then scratched his head with a small, apologetic smile. "Ah. I'm repeating myself."

Asuma thought that he could understand the man's wild vacillation between hating and adoring Kakashi as he himself effortlessly transitioned from irritation to affection. There was something incredibly endearing about Yamato’s manner, always so polite, earnest and eager to prove himself to anyone he regarded as his senpai (which, apparently, was every jōnin in the village older than him).

Asuma lit a cigarette to cover up the wistful sigh that wanted to escape his lips. He couldn’t regret inviting Yamato out for a drink, not really, even though his company wasn’t up to much at that moment in time. 

The man had just looked so damn _forlorn_ when the kids had split off towards their own residences with cheery shouts of “Bye, Captain Yamato!”, ducking his head in a way that made him seem half a head shorter than he actually was.

“Have a pleasant evening, Asuma-senpai,” he’d said, so terribly proper as always. With his hunched shoulders and clouded eyes, he’d looked like a child left to eat lunch alone in the playground instead of an ANBU captain. Asuma was struck with far too clear a vision of Yamato sitting at home, all alone, wrapped in a blanket like a forgotten elderly relative while he ate a can of soup or some other equally depressing convenience food. He didn’t think Yamato had any friends other than Kakashi, who Asuma would be the first to call a terrible friend (because God knew that _Gai_ would never say it even though he had every right).

Kurenai always told him that he had too big a heart, or, in her more vicious moments, too soft a one. Asuma couldn’t bring himself to let Yamato shuffle home so pathetically; instead he had lit a cigarette and said, “I was thinking of grabbing a couple of drinks, maybe a bite to eat. Care to join?”

Yamato was too good of a shinobi to give him more than the briefest of smiles as he accepted the invitation, but as they’d walked his posture had straightened. Asuma had felt like quite the good samaritan, puffing out his own chest in turn.

They’d entered the bar as a couple of peacocks and Asuma had set Yamato up with a whiskey on the rocks.

Things had gone south not long after that.

 _Shoulda started him on beer_ , Asuma thought now as Yamato slipped back into complaining about Kakashi.

“...those stupid books, oh, have you read them, Asuma-senpai? No, I’m sure you wouldn’t lower yourself, you’re far too much of a gentleman for such...such _trash_. But Kakashi-senpai reads them all the time! Honestly, if you ask me—”

“No,” Asuma gritted out around his cigarette. “I definitely did _not_ ask you.”

Yamato’s eyes were a little glassy from drink but he was no slouch; he picked up on Asuma’s irritation loud and clear. Asuma felt bad as he watched him shrink back to the other side of his barstool, eyes lowered in deference. He had been a little harsh. After all, he had invited the man out to drink with him, plied him with whiskey in an effort to get him to relax a little. It was unfair of him to treat him like an unwanted nuisance now. He made an effort to strike up a new subject.

“Not too canny with your liquor, are you? I would have thought a shinobi of your calibre would be able to handle more.”

Yamato smiled, swirling a mokuton-enhanced finger around in his drink. “Ah. It’s something to do with this—” he raised the wooden finger. “Affects my metabolism, I think? I get drunk fast but it wears off fast, too.”

“I see,” Asuma said, stroking his chin.

 _“Good evening, patrons!”_ Both men winced at the amplified voice that filled the bar, crackling through cheap speakers. _“We are delighted to announce that the karaoke competition will begin in just ten short minutes! If you haven’t signed up already, then now is the time!”_

Asuma snorted but Yamato’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam.

“Oh, karaoke!” he almost sighed, looking dreamily at the stage. “Asuma-senpai…”

“Forget it,” Asuma said. “No good ever comes out of karaoke.”

“Don’t you think it’s fun?” Yamato asked, turning his huge limpid eyes on Asuma.

Asuma cast his eyes around the bar. A group of young chunin had settled in right beside the stage and he could tell that they were already making fun of the two of them, along with every other patron in sight. He didn’t think that Yamato had noticed them.

Asuma had a thick skin; if anybody wanted to laugh themselves stupid at his expense, it wouldn’t trouble him a hair. He watched Yamato chewing on his lower lip, though, and his stomach tightened with second hand anxiety.

“I’m going to sing,” Yamato said suddenly, getting to his feet none too steadily and wobbling his way over to the sign-up sheet.

Asuma made one last effort to stop him.

“Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Yes,” Yamato said emphatically. “I’ve never done it before but tonight is as good a night as any.”

Asuma’s stomach knotted even further. “You’ve never sung karaoke before?”

Yamato shook his head and beamed at him. “But with Asuma-senpai’s support I just know it will be a rewarding experience!”

Oh Gods. He had created a monster.

Yamato returned to his barstool and waited patiently for his turn. Asuma endured a young civilian caterwauling her way through _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ and two boys from the chunin group shouting along to _Girls, Girls, Girls._

Then, it was Yamato’s turn.

He looked nervous as he stood and once the music started, Asuma knew why.

That song...was he really going to sing…

 _Like a Virgin_?!

Yamato paced towards the stage in time with the music and took the microphone. As the intro drew near its end he took a breath and—

Asuma yanked him forcibly off of the stage and dumped him back onto his barstool.

The chunin started to boo and hiss.

Asuma silenced them with a glare; he was well known within the village, after all. One of the perks of being the (late) Hokage’s son.

Yamato turned to him, all innocent confusion. “Why’d you stop me?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to sing that song,” Asuma muttered. “And you’ve definitely had enough to drink for one night.”

Yamato sighed and slumped on one hand. “You’re probably right. You know what’s best for me. Just like Kakashi-senpai. He’s always telling me what to do, but really he’s usually right, and…"

Asuma’s head started to throb. More about Kakashi, always back to Kakashi. All he wanted was for Yamato to _shut up already_ and he could only think of one surefire way to get it to happen.

As Yamato babbled obliviously, Asuma took one final drag on his cigarette, crushed it out in the bar top ashtray, then leaned over and planted his mouth against Yamato’s.

The captain actually squeaked with surprise and the noise from the chunin table became almost deafening. Undeterred, Asuma pried Yamato’s lips apart with his tongue and slotted their mouths firmly together. Only when he was thoroughly convinced that he’d taken the words out of Yamato’s mouth did he pull away.

Yamato’s cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were closed. He coughed and Asuma’s cigarette smoke drifted out of his nose.

“S-senpai?”

“You wouldn’t stop talking,” Asuma said by way of explanation.

He turned to face the bartender who had frozen in his polishing of glassware and now stood like a waxwork staring at the two of them. Asuma shrugged and repeated the sentiment.

“He wouldn’t stop talking.”

Yamato’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at Asuma. His expression was impossible to read but he had, indeed, stopped talking.

Asuma had been mostly joking when he’d kissed him (at least half joking) but held in the gaze of those huge, dark eyes he felt an undeniable tug of arousal.

He was no stranger to picking up guys in bars. He wasn’t usually so blatant about it, but the old bartender knew the value of discretion and with the other patrons—including those rowdy chunin—at least halfway towards absolutely plastered, he thought he could rely on plausible deniability.

This wasn’t where he’d intended for the evening to go, but, he thought as he let his eyes rake over Yamato’s body, he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to a dalliance if the other was willing.

Yamato hadn’t thrown the remains of his drink in his face. They were already off to a good start.

As Asuma very obviously checked Yamato out, he felt another flare of desire to see the other man checking him out in turn. And then…

Yamato _leered_ at him.

A dim corner of Asuma’s mind warned him that he was definitely more drunk than he’d given himself credit for. That logical, sober voice tried to sound the alarm and get him to make a different decision.

_You don’t even know if he’s gay._

_What if it’s a set-up to catch you out?_

_People are watching!_

He dismissed the thoughts as easily as he might have waved away a curl of smoke. It had been too long since he’d had a good romp between the sheets to worry about any of that. There wasn’t anyone in the bar he couldn’t take in a fight if he had to and he wasn’t at all worried about Yamato’s loyalties. He’d been approved by the Hokage for God’s sake, and Tsunade wasn’t under Danzo’s thumb like his father had been so far as he could tell. Yamato was of Konoha and if the Hokage trusted him with missions, then Asuma could trust his discretion for the sake of one night.

He always had been impulsive as well as big-hearted.

Asuma laid a hand on Yamato’s knee and very deliberately squeezed. Yamato’s lips parted and Asuma grinned at him.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Yamato’s eyes searched his, looking, Asuma thought, for the catch, the joke, the lie. He came up empty because Asuma was being completely serious.

Yamato was attractive. Endearing. A little uptight.

Unwinding him could be a lot of fun.

Yamato narrowed his eyes and Asuma stared back unblinking, one eyebrow cocked in question.

Then slowly, very slowly, Yamato’s lips curved into a smile.

“Alright,” he said.

Asuma grabbed his arm and wasted no time flickering them to his house, ignoring the hoots and cat-calls that came from the chunin table.

They landed on the front porch and Yamato gaped a little.

“You live here?”

“Old family estate,” Asuma said, shrugging. He didn’t much care for the Sarutobi compound but especially now, after his father’s sacrifice, he felt honor and duty-bound to remain. He tugged impatiently on Yamato’s hand. “Come on, inside.”

To his relief, Yamato had noticeably sobered up as they picked their way through the dark house towards his bedroom, his footing sure and steady.

It hadn't been bullshit about his metabolism, then.

And even relatively sober, he was _still there_.

If it _was_ a set-up then he certainly seemed committed to it. Or maybe it was true what they said about the ANBU after all, Asuma thought with a smirk.

It was after he had turned on his table lamp and straightened up, still fully clothed, to stand by his enormous four poster bed that things got awkward.

Yamato cleared his throat and gestured at the bed.

"This is where you sleep?"

For want of anything better to do, Asuma lit a cigarette. "Yeah."

"Kurenai-senpai is a lucky woman," Yamato murmured.

Asuma dragged on his cigarette then stuck it in the corner of his mouth to shrug out of his flak vest.

"It isn't like that between us, you know."

Yamato raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"But it suits both of us for people to believe that it is."

Yamato's eyes slid sideways and a small smile tugged at one side of his mouth as he nodded like he understood.

 _Attractive,_ Asuma thought. It settled some of the nerves.

Yamato mirrored Asuma and rid himself of his flak vest, laying it neatly on top of the love seat at the end of the bed. He laced his fingers together and his eyes darted around as though he was afraid to look at Asuma directly.

"So. Ah. What did you want to… That is, how should I…"

He was cute when he was flustered, Asuma thought, rounding the foot of the bed to get closer to him. The pink flush on Yamato's cheeks extended all the way down to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt and Asuma was very interested in finding out how low it went.

"You can take off that ridiculous face plate for a start," he said and Yamato breathed out a laugh as he complied.

"The shirt, too," Asuma said, gesturing with his cigarette. "Lose it."

Yamato fumbled and dropped his faceplate.

Asuma felt like a predator as he slid closer, right into the other man’s personal space.

"And stop being so neat and tidy," he said, kicking the faceplate to the other side of the room before Yamato could stoop to retrieve it. He picked up Yamato's discarded vest and flung it into the corner with his own for good measure.

He was expecting laughter in response or perhaps a blush, but Yamato lowered his eyes and bowed his head respectfully. Before Asuma could dismiss the gesture as the action of some ingrained instinct, Yamato tucked his hands behind his back for good measure. He remained in that pose, only a flash of his dark eyes peeking up through his lashes giving him away.

"Yes, senpai," he said quietly.

The words and actions in that context pulled Asuma up short and he let a breath of smoke curl out of his nostrils as he considered.

Oh. So that was what his companion was after, was it?

He certainly had picked an interesting one tonight.

Asuma was laid back in bed by nature; dominant wasn't a role that he played often when he preferred to be taken along for the ride by a partner who knew exactly what they wanted and wasn’t afraid to use his body to get it. Just for tonight, though, he would give it a try. New experiences were always welcome, particularly in bed, he had found. And hey, if it was what the other man needed to finally loosen up a little, so much the better.

"I thought I told you to lose the shirt," he said.

Before Yamato could react Asuma had curled his fingers in the dark fabric and yanked the other man off balance to stumble against him. Yamato's hands flew up to steady himself and slapped into Asuma's broad chest.

This close there was no mistaking the arousal that had coloured his face and darkened his eyes. Asuma twisted his hand in Yamato's shirt and smiled what he hoped would come across as a cruel smile.

"Do I have to teach you how to follow orders, captain?"

Yamato let out a shaky breath and licked his lips, looking demurely up at Asuma from beneath long eyelashes.

 _Pretty_ , Asuma thought.

He ran his thumb roughly over Yamato's plump lower lip then pushed it into his mouth. He rubbed over Yamato's teeth and pressed down on his soft, wet tongue and Yamato allowed the intrusion, unmoving and breathing noisily through his nose. Acting on a hunch, Asuma dropped his other hand to Yamato's crotch. He was hard alright, and when Asuma squeezed around his length he gasped.

Asuma took hold of Yamato's jaw, gripping it firmly while his fingers joined his thumb to explore the moist confines of his mouth. He searched those dark eyes and let his words come out just barely above a growl.

"I want you to show me what you can do with this mouth apart from _talk_."

Yamato dropped to his knees so readily that it was startling. Asuma didn’t think he’d gotten hard so fast since he was a teenager; the sudden rush of blood made him pleasantly dizzy. Yamato paused only for a moment to press his cheek against the bulge of Asuma’s erection while his fingers spidered over the waistband of his trousers, then he was unzipping and peeling the fabric aside. He eased Asuma’s boxer briefs over the jut of his cock, freeing it to the warm drowsy air of the bedroom, then stilled his hands and looked up at Asuma.

He was waiting, Asuma realised. Waiting to be told what to do or to be given permission.

And holy hell, it was hot.

Asuma swallowed, trying to bring some moisture to his mouth that had gone bone dry in the face of Yamato’s submissiveness. He’d never really had any inclination towards this sort of thing, but that had been before. Before he’d had a man like Yamato—inheritor of the First’s mystical wood release technique, an ANBU captain, a lifelong assassin—kneeling at his feet and looking at his cock like he wanted nothing in the world so much.

He could have given the word or simply pulled Yamato forward, more than confident that the man would open his mouth to take him in, but he found himself wanting to draw the moment out and indulge himself in a little more anticipation. Asuma liked foreplay. He liked to take his time with a partner, even a temporary one, and not just rush to the finish. He also couldn’t imagine when he would next have somebody as eager and willing as Captain Yamato in his bedroom. For all of Asuma's swagger and charm, evenings that ended like this were something of a rare treat nowadays. Even if this was to be a one time drunken thing, he didn’t want to rush it.

He took Yamato’s chin between his fingers and urged him to tip his head back so that their eyes could meet.

“What do you want?” Asuma asked.

“I want to suck your cock,” was the immediate reply.

Asuma shivered with want but held back a little longer.

“Why should I let you?”

Yamato licked his lips again. His hands were still on the open edges of Asuma’s trousers, teasingly close to his erection but not daring to touch.

“I’m good at it,” Yamato said as he gazed up at Asuma. “You can fuck my mouth. I’ll swallow your cum.”

His desire for foreplay reached its limit at that. Asuma pulled Yamato closer by his chin. He took hold of his cock and dragged it roughly over the captain’s lips and Yamato made a small sound. The soft pink flush in his cheeks deepened.

“Go ahead,” Asuma said roughly and a second later his cock was buried in Yamato’s warm, wet mouth.

If anything, Yamato had undersold himself; he displayed a wicked, sinful talent for sucking cock. It was like he’d been built for it, Asuma thought dimly as Yamato took in the whole of his not inconsiderable length. If he had any gag reflex at all he certainly wasn’t betraying the fact. His throat seemed to open effortlessly as he pressed forward, forward, forward until his nose was jammed up against Asuma’s pubic bone, then he did _something_ with his muscles that made them _ripple_ around Asuma’s cock, tight and slick and absolutely glorious.

“Holy shit,” Asuma choked out, feeling weak at the knees. “I need to sit down for this.”

He managed to settle his ass on the loveseat without ever leaving Yamato’s mouth, a feat that he frankly thought deserved some credit when Yamato was trying his level best to suck his brains out through his cock. Yamato settled on his heels and started to bob up and down on his shaft, moving fast and taking him deep. He sucked hard and flickered his tongue over all the right places and all Asuma could do was sit back and let it happen until his forgotten cigarette started to burn against his lips, smoked down to the filter.

Just when he started to think that the thing would be over embarrassingly quickly, Yamato pulled off of him completely, wrapped a hand around him and looked him in the eyes as he slowly licked the head of his cock. He couldn’t help the groan that slipped past his lips at that and he only came more undone when Yamato responded by _sighing_ —his breath a teasing warm flutter over his straining length—and dropping his free hand into his lap to rub himself. Asuma raised a heavy hand to stroke through Yamato’s hair and the other man arched into his touch, rubbing his cheek against Asuma’s spit-slick cock in one of the lewdest displays Asuma had ever had the good fortune to see.

Fuck. He’d hit the jackpot.

“You’re doing very well,” Asuma heard himself saying, doling out praise mindlessly to keep Yamato worshipping his cock like that. “Your mouth is incredible.”

It worked wonders as Yamato visibly preened at his words and wrapped his lips around his cock. This time he sucked him slowly, working his way languidly down to the base and back again, his tongue all the while gently undulating like waves lapping a shore.

It felt good, alright. Very, very good. Asuma kept on talking, the words leaving him unbidden as though Yamato’s velvet tongue was coaxing them out.

“That’s right, just like that. Nice and slow. Don’t want to finish too soon. Want to enjoy it. Want to fuck your mouth for hours.”

Yamato let out a tiny groan and sank deep onto his cock, opening his throat again, looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Asuma pushed both hands roughly through his hair and started to guide his head up and down his length, spreading his thighs wide and tilting his hips up towards that talented mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “I’ve never been sucked like this. Such a good kohai, aren’t you?”

The phrase had slipped thoughtlessly from his mouth but his suspicion had been right as Yamato _whined_ and ground the heel of his hand against his own clothed erection. His mouth tightened and he did that _thing_ with his throat again and Asuma shuddered.

“Take your dick out,” he ordered. “Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you like choking on my cock.”

Yamato eagerly complied and Asuma’s eyes bulged as he drew out of the confines of his pants what was easily the longest, thickest cock he’d ever seen outside of a porno, flushed and leaking and very, very hard. Asuma’s mouth started to water and he swallowed.

He’d quite happily split himself open on that cock, given half the chance.

“Good kohai,” he said weakly and petted Yamato’s hair.

Yamato moaned and started to stroke himself.

Asuma stared.

Yamato continued to suck him, doing a stellar job of it, but he simply couldn’t tear his eyes away from the captain’s giant cock.

Christ, he could barely close his fist around it.

“Would you fuck me?” he had asked before he could stop himself.

Yamato froze.

For five long seconds they remained, Yamato’s mouth motionless around Asuma, his hand unmoving. Then Yamato drew back slowly, releasing him completely and raising his head to look at him.

Asuma felt himself blush.

“I know most people wouldn’t think I’m the type,” he said, fumbling his way through something of an explanation. “But I am. I mean, I do. I like it. I’d like your cock inside me.”

Yamato drew in a sharp breath. His voice, when it came out, was full of wonder.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah,” Asuma said. “If you want to.”

“If I...want to?” Yamato’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile. “Have you seen yourself? Who wouldn’t _want_ to?”

Asuma grinned, relieved. "Well, I kinda got the impression you don't top."

Yamato ducked his head, now smiling an alluring smile that was two parts shyness and one part come hither. "I top if someone will let me. Most people won't."

Asuma peeled off his shirt, his forehead protector going with it, grinning stupidly wide and happy. "Lucky I'm not most people."

Yamato's face lit up when he laughed, a brief but truly joyful sound.

 _He looks much better when he smiles,_ Asuma thought.

On impulse he bent down and claimed Yamato's mouth in a lingering kiss, both hands on his face. Yamato parted his lips in surprise and Asuma slid his tongue between them, tasting alcohol, smoke and himself in the other man's mouth. He felt Yamato's fingers skate hesitantly over his hands before curling around his wrists and he hummed low in his throat, pleased.

Yamato took a fraction too long to open his eyes afterwards, releasing a shaky little breath.

"Ah. That one wasn't to shut me up, was it?"

Asuma shook his head, pulling the captain to his feet and encouraging him to sit in his lap, which he did with a slightly dazed expression as if he couldn't quite believe that all of this was really happening.

"That one was just ‘cause I wanted to,” Asuma said.

Yamato reddened and looked away but Asuma took hold of his chin and brought him right back into another kiss. He encouraged Yamato to take the lead, just barely brushing his tongue over the other man’s lips before retreating, his arms loosely around Yamato’s hips.

It was funny, but Yamato kissed nothing like he sucked cock. All of his confidence was gone and his mouth was hesitant, uncertain. Asuma pulled back to look at him.

“Have you ever done this before?”

Yamato blinked. “Am I that bad?”

Asuma chuckled. “No, shit, no. I’m just curious.”

“Ah.” Yamato looked down at Asuma’s chest, much more densely haired than his own. “Have I ever kissed before?”

“Kissed. Sucked. Fucked. Any of it.”

Yamato lifted one shoulder in a shrug. His eyes dropped lower to Asuma’s erection rising from his unzipped fly.

“Some things. Other things, only with...clones.” 

Asuma raised his eyebrows. “Clones, huh?”

Yamato looked horribly embarrassed, bright red and chewing on his lower lip.

“I gave them a henge,” he said quietly. “It was just for practise.”

Asuma ducked his head, forcing Yamato to meet his eye. He grinned at him.

“Listen: if you think I’m going to judge you for jutsu abuse, you obviously haven’t heard any of Kakashi’s stories about my academy days.”

He caught Yamato’s mouth with his own again and kissed him, languid but insistent, until the other man started to relax into it. Asuma cradled Yamato’s head with one hand while he let the other trail down his defined chest and drift around in his lap until he brushed his impressive erection. He curled his fingers around it and Yamato groaned and finally kissed him like he meant it, draping his arms over Asuma’s shoulders and tilting his head to get his tongue deeper.

Asuma stroked him gently until his own excitement grew to be too much to ignore, then broke off and kissed his way from Yamato's soft lips to his throat, mindful of his beard which he knew could scratch unpleasantly if he got too carried away. Yamato made a noise and tilted his head for him and Asuma got the distinct impression that Yamato wasn’t used to being touched and kissed the way that Asuma was touching him and kissing him. He clearly had experience being on his knees, but someone being gentle with him? Treating him like he mattered? He thought perhaps his earlier impression of Yamato at home alone night after night hadn’t been all that far off the mark.

Even as he found himself now—kissing a slow, wet path from one of Yamato’s shoulders and over his chest to reach the other—Asuma hadn’t ever _planned_ on doing such things to Yamato, _with_ Yamato. When the opportunity had presented itself, though, when he’d really taken a moment to think of the other man in those terms, he’d been…

Taken with him, he supposed was the right phrase. Maybe even a little enchanted.

Asuma took some time just to look at the man in his arms; the barely sun-kissed hue of Yamato’s skin that contrasted so nicely with his own deep tan, Yamato’s wide, dark eyes, his toned body more compact than Asuma’s own but no less powerful, firm with muscle and warm under his palms.

 _Handsome_ , he thought.

He didn’t realise he’d said it out loud until Yamato’s lips parted around a soft gasp and his eyes fell away. Again, Asuma guided him by his chin to look at him.

“You are, you know.”

Yamato shrugged and tried for a smile that looked like it had been nailed on. Asuma’s thoughts ran, like a movie on rewind, back over the events of the night, the day, the preceding weeks and realised that there was a profound loneliness surrounding the man currently in his lap.

Five minutes ago he’d only wanted Yamato’s mouth around his cock. Thirty minutes ago he’d only wanted to shut him up. Now, he was no longer sure _what_ he wanted but he had an idea of what Yamato _needed_ and he was willing to be the one to give it.

Whether only for one night, or perhaps…

"You've gotta kiss me if you wanna fuck me,” he said, trying for a joke to stop the train of his thoughts which were drifting entirely too far away from sex for his comfort. “That's the toll."

Yamato's lips twitched again. "The toll? Do you get many...customers?"

Asuma busied himself ridding Yamato of his shirt. "I don't do this all that often if that's what you mean."

He smoothed a hand down the newly revealed chest and took hold of Yamato’s cock again. Yamato shivered as he stroked him slowly and tipped his head back in a silent invitation. Asuma pressed his open mouth to Yamato’s neck and lavished it with sensual licks, kisses and sucks while his hand worked.

“I’ll bet most people can’t even fit you in their mouth, can they?” he murmured by Yamato’s ear in between lingering kisses to his jaw. “Has anyone ever sucked you? Made you come in their mouth?”

Yamato’s breath caught. He didn’t answer. Asuma kissed the corner of his mouth, rolled his palm over the head of his cock until Yamato thrust needily against his hand.

“Bring your cock up here for me.” Asuma let his voice rumble against Yamato’s cheek. “I want to suck it.”

“You don’t have—”

“I said I want to,” Asuma said, letting a little of the commanding tone of earlier in the night seep into the words. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”

Yamato rose up onto his knees and Asuma was faced with the most delicious looking cock he’d ever seen. 

_Thank you for this feast I am about to receive_ , he thought to himself, then palmed Yamato’s ass and opened his mouth as wide as he could.

He felt Yamato’s whole body shudder when he took the thick head of his cock between his lips. He closed his eyes, a concentrated frown furrowing his brow as he eased his mouth bit by bit onto Yamato’s length, its size stretching his lips to an obscene degree.

Christ, it was so _big_.

He wondered where the hell the captain had been hiding such a monstrous cock. There was a giddy sort of pride in imagining himself being the first to discover it, like a world explorer staking his claim and planting his flag (or having the flag planted _in him_ , at least).

But Yamato had been hiding his whole self as well, hadn’t he? Asuma wasn’t even supposed to know that the man was ANBU, technically, but membership was among Konoha’s worst kept secrets and Kakashi ran his mouth when he was drunk. Asuma had spent a lot of his youth hanging around the Hokage tower, pestering his father or simply waiting for him to finish working so he would pay attention to him (he never had). Hiruzen had even thought to groom him to take over the role at one stage, before it became abundantly clear that a sixteen-year-old Asuma would far rather fight and smoke and drink (and suck cock) than sit behind a desk.

Had he ever seen Captain Yamato behind one of those white porcelain masks? Was he Hawk, or Serpent, or Cat?

Yamato settled a hesitant, trembling hand in his hair and Asuma made a pleased noise that rumbled low in his throat, vibrating through Yamato’s cock and making it twitch in response. He gripped Yamato’s ass firmly in both hands, encouraging him on, drawing him deeper in.

What else might Yamato have been hiding, if Asuma really was his first? Talk of clones and the strange song choice at the karaoke bar had painted a picture; incomplete, perhaps, but the central image clear enough.

It had been easy enough for Asuma to be gay. It had always been a secret, yes, a thing constructed firstly out of furtive encounters in alleyways and later in shadowy bedrooms in far off towns, something built around false names and disguises, but it had been possible. Hokage’s son or no, Asuma had fucked and been fucked, had never found any difficulty in securing a warm body for an evening’s company. Things were even a little easier now, as he approached his thirtieth year, than when he’d been broaching his twentieth. It still wasn’t the sort of thing that one announced out loud in Konoha, but he was, at least, less likely to be beaten to a pulp now for hitting on the wrong person.

But had Yamato been able to explore in that way, to learn who he was and what he liked with other willing experimenters? Even if was straight—and for all Asuma knew he _had_ been straight until tonight, if he’d been anything at _all_ —how easy or difficult was it for ANBU, Fire Country’s elite assassination squad, to get laid? If being openly gay in the wrong company could have landed Asuma in hospital, might it have landed Yamato in the _morgue_?

Asuma didn’t think that Yamato would willingly give him the answers to those questions and he wasn’t much inclined to ask. All that really mattered was that he had Yamato now, a willing and eager participant in the sloppy blowjob that Asuma was attempting to give as he delighted in his private imaginings of being the first to taste his cock, the first to feel it weighing down his tongue and making his jaw ache with its sheer girth.

He really couldn’t do much with it, he realised unhappily. Truthfully he could just barely fit his mouth around all of the cock that Yamato had, so hard and thick and _long_ . His heart beat fiercely behind his ribs and he could feel the thudding pulse in his throat as he tried his very best to suck Yamato off, to make him feel as good as he had made Asuma feel. He pulled the other man forward to all but smother himself with his cock, wrapping a hand around the base—holy hell, there was still more that just _couldn’t fit_ —and bathing the shaft with his tongue.

Yamato let out a cry of pleasure, a broken, uncontrolled sound that made Asuma’s pride swell as he started to draw back, sucking hard, delightfully depraved slurping sounds slipping free from the gaps between his lips and that rock hard shaft.

He’d almost forgotten how much he loved sucking cock, it had been so long since he’d had one. He was desperately hard, breathing noisily through his nose as he rolled his tongue around Yamato, mapping every contour of him and revelling in his exploration.

“Shit,” he said roughly as he finally pulled off, wrapping a firm hand around Yamato’s wet shaft and pumping it slowly. “You’re going to feel phenomenal inside me.”

Yamato sucked in a sharp gasp above him and Asuma imagined what he would be able to see looking down at him; the flush he could feel on his face, the hunger in his eyes as he stared at Yamato’s cock. When the other man spoke it was with breathless disbelief.

“You really do want to?”

Asuma looked up and met his lust-blown eyes. Yamato looked as utterly undone, as wild with carnal desire as he’d ever made any man look and it spurred him on all the more. He wanted to drive Yamato halfway out of his mind with lust, he wanted to make him forget that there was anything in the world outside of their two bodies. ANBU didn’t matter. The next mission or the last didn’t matter. They were only two people fucking for the fun of it, because they could.

“Yeah,” Asuma said, “I want to.”

Yamato faltered. “Where...how…?”

Asuma laughed and stood from the loveseat, taking Yamato easily with him with his hands beneath his thighs. The wood user instinctually curled his legs around Asuma’s waist and Asuma carried him around the bed to deposit him gently onto the mattress. He joined him there and cupped his jaw to turn his head towards him, looking deep into his eyes.

“How do you want me?”

He bit the inside of his cheek to fight his grin as he all but saw the cogs trying but failing to turn in Yamato’s mind. The other man licked his lips, looked at Asuma and then away, then back again with a measure of desperation in his eyes as he tried to come up with an answer.

He was terribly endearing, Asuma thought, not for the first time that evening. He laughed but it wasn’t a mocking sound; it was soft, pleased, maybe even grateful to have Yamato with him like this, a blushing virgin or close enough to it.

He leaned in and caught Yamato’s mouth with his own, kissing him sweetly until he parted his lips with the quietest of moans as though he was still afraid to enjoy being with Asuma or didn’t believe that it was allowed. Asuma tugged Yamato’s lower lip between his teeth, licked into his mouth and sucked on his tongue until finally Yamato moaned louder and shifted closer to hook a leg over his hip.

Asuma rolled onto his back and brought the other man with him, finally breaking for air as he tried to wrestle their remaining clothes off. Together they shed layers until they both lay naked on the four poster bed and Asuma kissed Yamato one more time. There was something terrifically, worryingly addictive about the feel of the wood user’s lips against his and he couldn’t help but gravitate back to them over and over again. He dragged his mouth to Yamato’s neck, letting his beard scratch this time and delighting in the younger man’s shudder.

“I like being on my knees when I’m getting fucked,” Asuma murmured, holding Yamato’s body close to his own, rubbing their cocks together until Yamato was breathing hard, rutting against him to get more contact. “Can you take me like that?”

“Senpai,” Yamato gasped and Asuma winced.

“Just Asuma. Please.”

Yamato stilled, took a breath, hesitated.

“A-Asuma,” he tried.

Asuma was reluctant to part from the warmth of Yamato’s body against his but he didn’t want to wait any longer to get that magnificent cock inside him. He left the bed for only long enough to get lube from the bottom drawer of his dresser and toss it to Yamato.

“I can take two fingers right off the bat,” he said, proning himself with his head down and ass in the air. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

He heard Yamato’s softly exhaled “Oh, fuck,” and grinned into the pillows.

He wasn’t prepared for it when Yamato spread him and licked over his entrance. His breath stuttered out of him and his cock throbbed where it hung heavy between his body and the bed. Yamato licked him again, again, again and Asuma surrendered to the steady pleasure of it

“Ah,” he groaned, tipping his head back, curling his fingers into the sheets. “Ah, Yamato.”

Yamato replaced his tongue with slick fingers, pressing his mouth to a firm buttock.

“It’s good?”

“Feels great,” Asuma said, recalling how well Yamato responded to praise and pushing back in search of more sensation. “Give me more.”

His body felt hot and needy yet he was so relaxed from Yamato’s mouth working him over that when the first two fingers entered him all at once he barely twitched. Yamato’s other hand came around to jerk him off and he hummed with pleasure.

“You really took them both,” Yamato murmured in fascination.

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” Asuma said, eyes slipping closed as he pressed back against those fingers until Yamato took the hint and started to thrust them in and out of him.

When the next finger pushed in his body seized around it before accepting it. He could definitely feel the stretch now, could only imagine how much more it would be when it was Yamato’s cock. He looked over his shoulder, wanting the other man to see how affected he was and how aroused.

“Yamato,” he said in what Kurenai always called his ‘sexy voice’. “Hurry up. I want to come around your cock.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yamato breathed.

He remembered something Yamato had said earlier in the bar during one of his tipsy diatribes and his lips curved suggestively.

"Still think I'm a gentleman now?"

"I think you're _gorgeous_ ," Yamato exclaimed, then immediately blushed bright red. If he’d had a hand free that wasn’t touching Asuma, the older man thought he would have slapped it over his mouth.

Asuma only chuckled, too strung out with pleasure to do much else, but he was gratified. He may have been the one whose body was being worked open, but the more time they spent in bed together, the more Yamato was loosening up. Being granted permission to drop the senpai honorific seemed to have been a gateway to unlocking his confidence. Yamato was still a quiet lover for sure, but at the start he hadn't even been able to get a full sentence out without trailing off and now he was cursing and blurting out endearments.

There couldn't be any doubt left in Yamato's mind about Asuma's desire for him now, not with a fourth finger easing into his ass and stretching him wider than God had ever intended, not with his cock stiff and leaking against Yamato’s palm.

“It’s gonna feel so good,” Asuma said, the words coming out strained as, slowly but surely, his body yielded to Yamato’s hand. “Your cock inside me. Ah, fuck.”

“You won’t be able to take all of me,” Yamato said breathlessly. When Asuma forced his eyes back open he saw the other man staring with fascination at where his fingers disappeared into his body. “The clones never could.”

“I’m not a clone,” Asuma said and paused as one exquisite twist of Yamato's wrist sent a shiver racing down his spine. “I’ll take it all.”

“Do you have a condom?” Yamato asked.

“Don’t need it,” Asuma said. “Shit, Yamato. Give it to me now. I’m ready.”

“Asuma,” Yamato breathed and withdrew his fingers.

He liked hearing his name from Yamato's lips, said so reverently even without the senpai. Asuma knew he was good looking, he'd never had any illusions about that. He could go to any bar and pick up almost any guy he wanted and a lot of them would be grateful to have him for the night. He'd had plenty of guys praise him, thank him, fuck him like he was a gift from the Almighty, but what he was getting from Yamato wasn't that, not quite.

Yamato said his name again whisper-soft as he positioned himself behind him and it was like Yamato was the first guy he'd fucked who had really seen him for who he was, not just an attractive smile, a ripped body and a tight ass. Here and now he was Sarutobi Asuma, his whole self, for better and for worse. He was all of the shit he'd done, all of his mistakes and his fleeting moments of glory. He was his father's son but he wasn't only that, he was everything else as well. A man, a shinobi, a human being. He was—

"Asuma," Yamato said again as he finally started to press into him.

He wouldn't mind hearing his name that way a little more often, Asuma thought.

He yielded gratefully to the steady pressure of Yamato’s cock straining against his hole. Yamato went slowly, so very, mind-bendingly slowly, and his whole world shrank down to the feeling of being entered. This was one of his very favourite things of all, when time stood still around the breath caught in his throat, his body suspended between empty and full and toeing the line between discomfort and pleasure. He existed in anticipation of when he would start to be fucked in earnest, when all would be a pounding, relentless drive towards the promise of an orgasm just a few minutes ahead. Yet in that first stretch the future was an eternity because everything was the present tense.

Everything was physical; skin and muscle and hot, hot blood racing beneath the surface.

He was making a sound, his mouth mashed against his pillow, then Yamato was stopping, God, why was he _stopping_?

Asuma forced himself up onto his hands and glared back over his shoulder at where Yamato was watching him with an anxious face.

“It’s too much.”

Asuma shook his head vehemently.

“No. Keep going.”

Yamato looked conflicted but he was already halfway inside Asuma, thick and hard and wanting. He chewed on his lip, his hands horribly tentative on Asuma’s hips.

“Give it to me,” Asuma gritted out. “I want it, Yamato. _Please_.”

When more seconds passed and Yamato _still wasn’t moving_ , Asuma took matters into his own hands and pushed back onto his cock.

Yamato gasped.

Asuma grunted.

“I...I need more lube,” Yamato said.

“Okay,” Asuma agreed shakily. “But don’t...just don’t pull out. Don’t stop.”

A good four inches of Yamato’s lengthy shaft had yet to enter Asuma and he generously coated himself, pulling out a little, to Asuma’s great displeasure, before starting the long, slow slide back in.

Asuma had to focus everything on keeping himself relaxed around Yamato’s cock. God, he’d never been so stretched. He could feel every bump and contour inside him. Yamato’s cock twitched and he felt it. His body wanted so badly to clamp down, to stop Yamato from going deeper but Asuma grit his teeth and willed his muscles to stay still.

It wasn’t an easy thing to do but it was so, so rewarding.

Yamato reached around and took hold of his cock in a slick hand and he groaned as the attention helped his body to open up that little bit more. Then suddenly Yamato was buried all the way to the hilt and the last of Asuma’s breath tore out of him as a strained cry.

Full. Oh fuck, oh Christ. He was so incredibly _full_.

His muscles fluttered, twitched, jumped around Yamato’s huge cock. His chest heaved with his breaths. His own cock throbbed in Yamato’s hand.

“Asuma,” Yamato whispered, choked and trembling himself. “I’ve never...the whole thing... _Asuma_.”

His consciousness felt thick and soupy, secondary to everything that his body was experiencing. The stretch, Gods, the _stretch_ . He suddenly wished that he could see it, see how his body had swallowed up Yamato’s cock. But he could feel it, oh yes. He’d never felt anything quite so much. The pressure on his prostate was constant, his pleasure a raw jagged thing slicing through him like barbed wire. Everything else became distant and wholly unimportant in the wake of that cock buried so deep inside him that he almost believed he could _taste_ it.

“Fuck me,” Asuma gritted out.

Yamato started to slide out and his thick, solid shaft dragged over Asuma’s walls, nailing every sensitive part. He couldn’t hold back his low cry, an almost animal sound that ripped from his throat as he shook on his knees.

“Asuma,” Yamato said again, sounding equally wrecked.

“Yes,” Asuma hissed. “Yes, _fuck_ yes.”

Yamato sank back in helplessly, Asuma’s body welcoming him but still so tight. He rocked his hips, moving in steady shallow thrusts that kept him buried deep, both of them marvelling at how they fit together. Yamato had just enough presence of mind to squeeze Asuma’s cock in his hand and rub the wet head with his fingers until Asuma was panting, clawing at the sheets.

“Yamato,” he choked out, his voice muffled by the pillows he was shoving his face into. “God, it’s so… You’re so...”

Yamato withdrew further and thrust back in harder and as he slotted home Asuma shuddered and came with a surprised shout. His muscles rippled around Yamato’s cock and the younger man couldn’t hold back; his hips hitched up against Asuma’s ass as he climaxed inside him. Asuma let out a deeply satisfied groan, arching his back contentedly as he felt Yamato’s release pulsing into him while he spent over the wood user’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Yamato gasped behind him, trying to pull out. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut up,” Asuma said, thickly and without malice. “Shut up and come in my ass.”

Yamato sighed with relief and did just that.

Their disentanglement wasn’t exactly pleasant but it was nothing Asuma hadn’t dealt with before. Yamato, though, looked absolutely mortified when his cum dripped out of Asuma’s ass and onto the bed.

“I’ll pay for drycleaning,” he said, his face bright red.

Asuma chuckled, stretching out on his back with one knee raised and his arms pillowed behind his head.

“It’ll come out in the wash. Don’t worry about it.”

Yamato nodded without meeting his eye. His posture had taken on the defeated slouch of earlier.

“Alright. I guess I’ll—”

Asuma huffed, lunged forward and pulled a startled Yamato down to the bed with him.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said into Yamato’s hair as he arranged the younger man beneath his arm. “You don’t have to leave right now.”

“Oh,” Yamato said in a very small voice, holding himself stiffly against Asuma’s chest.

Asuma fumbled on the bedside table for his lighter and cigarettes. He lit one and hummed as he blew out the smoke.

“You’re quite the ride, captain.”

He got a startled breath of a laugh in response.

Asuma lounged contentedly as he smoked, scratching Yamato’s scalp with his free hand. After a minute or two the captain relaxed and even pushed up into his touch like a cat might. It made Asuma smile.

“You said I don’t have to leave right now,” Yamato ventured when he was halfway through his cigarette. Asuma looked down and caught a glimpse of dark eyes before Yamato turned his face back into his chest. “Then...when?”

Asuma hummed and let his fingers drift down to Yamato’s neck. “You can stay for a shower, for sure. You can sleep here if you want to. I wouldn’t mind.” With a smirk, he added, “I’ll change the sheets. Or there are spare rooms if you’d rather.”

Yamato was silent as he considered this, peeking up at Asuma once more. He curled a very tentative arm over Asuma’s body and Asuma smiled wider. He stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth and reached down to take hold of Yamato’s hand and tuck it firmly around him.

“I’ll take you out for breakfast,” he offered, lightly. “If you want.”

Yamato paused again before responding. He dared to press a kiss to Asuma’s ribs. Asuma squeezed him against his side.

“And after breakfast?” Yamato asked against his golden skin. “What then?”

“I’m no fortune teller,” Asuma said. He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on the wooden table, adding another burn scar to its already littered surface. “Why don’t we start with the breakfast and see how it goes?”

He wasn’t looking for a relationship and he didn’t think that Yamato was either. They were both shinobi, both war-scarred and hardened by loss to the extent that they always anticipated it. It wasn’t in their nature to want anything as fanciful as love or family. For men like them, bonds formed in battle were far stronger than bonds formed over dinner dates and hand-holding, anyway.

Still he thought, not at all unhappily, that what had happened between them that night would happen again. Furthermore, he suspected that there would always be a breakfast afterwards.

Perhaps he would stretch to dinner, one day.

“Listen,” he said, tugging Yamato upwards so he could rest his cheek against his soft brown hair. “That ‘senpai-kohai’ shit earlier isn’t really what you want, is it?”

Yamato tried to squirm out of his hold at that, but Asuma didn’t let him. Finally he relented and nestled against his shoulder with a sigh.

“It’s what I could get,” he said.

Asuma tried to ignore the tug in his chest but, like so many other things that had happened that evening, he found that he couldn’t.

Perhaps it wasn’t all that bad to feel such things. To be enchanted.

“Not anymore, alright?” he said into Yamato’s hair. “Now you've got me.”

  
Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger,  
You may see a stranger across a crowded room,  
And somehow you know, you know even then,  
That somehow you'll see [them] again and again.

Some enchanted evening, someone may be laughing,  
You may hear [them] laughing across a crowded room,  
And night after night, as strange as it seems,  
The sound of [their] laughter will sing in your dreams.

Who can explain it, who can tell you why?  
Fools give you reasons, wise men never try.

\-- _Some Enchanted Evening_ , Rodgers & Hammerstein

**Author's Note:**

> "Shut up and cum in my ass" is the best line I've ever written


End file.
